


Shooken, Not Stirred

by MariaMediaOverThere



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alcohol doesn't usually solve problems, Bartender!Phichit, M/M, but this is fiction so, dj!otabek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 20:44:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11471343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariaMediaOverThere/pseuds/MariaMediaOverThere
Summary: "I'm- I'll- I mean," Deep breaths, deep breaths. Don't look directly into the cute bartender's eyes- it's like looking at Medusa! He'll turn you rock solid!Shit- wait. That's not... "I'd like a-"Seung-Gil frantically reads from the menu pinned underneath his elbow."-blowjob."





	Shooken, Not Stirred

Despite Seung-Gil's warnings (JJ called them begs, but he's a fucking nosy liar), the moment the trio stepped inside the club, JJ was already sprinting towards the bar.

The Korean grabs him by the color of his tacky Canadian red-and-white jacket. "Will you calm down?!" He hisses, tongue sharp. "You said you weren't gonna do this."

JJ's got some good height on him and easily gets free of Seung-Gil's hold. "I'm excited!"

 

"Clearly."

 

He pouts, "Yuri and I thought we had to drive you to the ER."

 

"It was- I didn't come home drunk daily." Seung-Gil refuted, ears growing hot from embarrassment. It was half from being put on the spot, but also more of shame at his loss of self-control. He's not usually so careless about his health. "I was never even completely drunk!"

 

"You reeked of alcohol." Yuri walked over to an empty booth, not bothering to wait for the others to follow him. He had his blond hair all nice and slicked up that night. "Who puts off talking to someone for  ** _four hours_**  and just keeps ordering drinks?"

 

Seung-Gil can feel the blush crawl up his neck.

It was a pitiful display, really. He had formulated a finely crafted segue for when he ordered a new drink, but somehow, when the bartender came around with that million-watt smile, he would forget how to English good.

Try as he might, again and again, the opportunity kept slipping by him.

A tan (incredibly soft) hand reach out and the bartender- Phichit, his tag said- asked if he was fine.

He was about to say that the only thing that was fine right then was him; sadly, bile came up his throat before that sentence could.

 

And yet, why is he here the very next day?

 

(Probably because Yuri told JJ and if JJ is going, then Yuri is going, and Seung-Gil might as well show up to his own funeral, right?)

 

"You're one to talk, Plisetsky." Seung-Gil slid in the booth after him, retorting coolly "It's your fault I got in this mess because you needed someone to drive you to see your DJ boyf-"

 

Yuri makes a sound something akin to screaming and rolling his tongue.

 

JJ slid in opposite of Seung-Gil, "And you were drunkenly going on and on and on about ' _this cute bartender, oh my god, he has these lashes, oh my god. what the fuck. oh my god and those lips_ '!"

"That's offensive to Koreans everywhere." His dark eyes search for Yuri, "My accent doesn't sound that silly, does it?"

Yuri vacantly nods to a question he wasn't listening to as he search the contents of his leopard-print bag. "Hey, Lover Boy, get us a cold one,  _da_?"

 

"You're old enough to drink?" JJ gasps incredulously, already munching on bar nuts.

"Fuck off." Yuri slides some crumpled bills Seung-Gil's way.

 

The cold sensation of dread began to creep in his veins.

 

Considering how traumatizing the events that transpired last night were, he's sure the lovely bartender with the slim waist still remembers him.

 

Give it another 2 years, and maybe he could try again.

 

"No."

"Don't be a pussy."

"I said no!" Seung-Gil slams his hand down the table and pushes the small pile over to JJ's half of the table. "You do it, if you're so keen to be floored on a Sunday evening."

"Why not Yuri? It's his treat."

"He's obviously waiting for his boyfriend to finish his set on the stage."

"COULD YOU NOT?!" Yuri kicked the table from underneath. "Just man up and talk to your dumb bartender crush or else!"

 

It seemed pointless to ask Yuri Plisetsky what "or else" was implicit of. It was something he didn't want, to simply put.

 

But also the gorgeous boy from last night had round doe eyes and very expressive hands.

 

It was like he couldn't fucking win.

 

 

Grasping onto the table for strength, Seung-Gil scrambled across the dance floor with wobbly knees.

Who knows? Maybe Phichit isn't even working tonight and he could sleep tonight above ground.

 

As he nears the other side of the establishment, a back is turned to him and it's clearly not Phichit's.

 

Seung-Gil doesn't know whether to sigh in relief or disappointment.

 

The face that meets him is timid and round. Two warm Japanese eyes look from behind a pair of blue lenses. "Hello! What can I get you?"

"Good evening." Seung-Gil says even if it really isn't. "Let me just- I'll, euhm..." His eye twitches and his lungs feel heavy.

 

Some grace of God manifests itself in shiny pink-to-orange paper with sans serif text.

 

"Give me a minute." He eyes the laminated paper on the bar top.

The bartender of the night- Yuuri is emblazoned on his tag (wow that's weird)- gives him a shy nod and is called over by a tall man with silver hair a few chairs down from where Seung-Gil is.

 

 

Once out of sight, Seung-Gil throws his hands into the palm of his hands. What a day.

He's honestly still reeling from a wicked hangover from the night before. His blood is made purely out of pain-killers right now. If he smashed a bottle against his head, he'd doubt he'd feel a thing.

Maybe that's what the gross feeling in his stomach is- some sort of subsequent stomach flu from too much margaritas.

 

Shit.

He didn't even order attractive, manly drinks last night.

 

Phichit must think he's a total lightweight- Which he is, but that's irrelevant.

 

 

 

"What's irrelevant?"

 

 

Seung-Gil lets out a squeak that he will forever deny making.

In front of him in all his golden glory was his dreamboat from the night before, dressed in darks and golds. He's got his wet hands wrung around a rag- one which Seung-Gil very much envies.

Mr. Beautiful-Jawline turns his head and calls to the other end of the bar, "Yuuri! I'm back from my break!"

 

Yuuri steps away from the silver-haired man he was strangely close to and gives a shaky thumbs up. If not for the pinkish club lights, Seung-Gil would have made the assumption that he was blushing.

All while trying to figure that mystery out, Seung-Gil hadn't realized Phichit himself was eyeing him up and down. He turns in his seat and catches those gray eyes rake over his body. Some semblance of recognition flashes in his expression, but gladly he didn't say anything of it.

Or else, Seung-Gil might literally just stand up and leave and never come back.

 

"I uhm..." Shit. "Y-Y-You... I'm..."

Phichit's mouth twitches into an endeared smile. His lips are coated with some glossy substance that makes his pout more pronounced and irresistible.

Is this what Yuri feels like when that boy with the undercut texts him about his gigs?

"What can I get you, handsome?"

 

_! ! !_

 

"I'm- I'll- I mean," Deep breaths, deep breaths. Don't look directly into the cute bartender's eyes- it's like looking at Medusa! He'll turn you rock solid!

Shit- wait. That's not... "I'd like a-"

 

Seung-Gil frantically reads from the menu pinned underneath his elbow.

 

"-blowjob."

 

He could actually hear the spirits of his deceased relatives groan in embarrassment all the way from the earth underneath South Korea.

 

"THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT!" He barks. When he looks up, Phichit's got this unreadable expression on his face- but the smile is still there.

"I didn't-" Seung-gil runs a hand through his hair- which like, he totally wasn't spending hours trying to get into the perfect casual sexy look. He grabs the menu with both of his hands,

 

"Just give me a-"

The Korean tries again,

"Screaming Orgasm."

 

"I do hope you don't mean at this very moment, sir." Phichit giggles under his breath at his customer's obviously hectic disposition.

 

"No! That's-! I mean,"

One more time.

"Sit On My Face."

 

 

Giving up, Seung-Gil throws the menu card like a Frisbee. 

Hopefully, it'll act like a boomerang and come back to slice his head off.

 

"You're... Gonna have to get that back." Phichit leans over the bar top, a hand perched delicately on his hips. "But like- Impressive throw, dude."

"Please don't patronize me, I already feel like dying." Seung-Gils says, voice muffled from his head against the cool counter top.

"How come the counter gets all the action and I don't?"

 

Seung-Gil raises his head to give the meanest glare he can muster while still having a red face.

 

Phichit blinks for a short moment before dissolving into a fit of airy laughter. He raises a hand to cover his mouth, and his fingertips gently press against his chin in a motion clearly from some sort of South Western feature about seductive belles.

"You're a pretty funny guy, Seung-Gil."

 

"Howdoyouknowmyname?" It came as such a shock that he has accidentally asked it all in one exhale.

The pretty little boy with a straight fringe looked coy, "I asked the DJ. He and his friend brought you home last night, remember?"

 

Seung-Gil repeated the same screaming-rolling-tongue noise Yuri had earlier, finding it felt most natural to do.

 

Somehow not taking it as a sign that Seung-Gil is some sort of hazardous lizard creature, and that he should vacate the area immediately, Phicht beams. However, it falters shortly after.

"I feel partially responsible, actually. I should have stopped you when you seemed to be getting too drunk."

 

Seung-Gil feels a whine form at the back of his throat. It's one thing to be aesthetically appealing, but a whole other field to also be a Good Person (TM).

 

"There's no way you could have known, I'm-" He coughs, in an effort to mask the next words, "Quite a lightweight."

 

"Oh? Then why are you back?"

 

 _For you_ , he wants to say.

"My friends forced me." Technically not a lie. "I'm the designated driver."

 

Phichit nods his head solemnly. "Sucks then, huh? You can't drink, and you don't seem to be the dancing type either- so you just stay sober until they're ready to go home?"

 

"I'm-" Seung-Gil frowned. Rather, he frowned more than usual. "I can dance." He said in lieu of building to his web of lies. JJ and Yuri aren't actually hardcore drinkers.

Phichit only raises a finely-plucked brow.

"What? It's true!" He huffed. He did not spend years of social dancing to be dismissed so easily- cute boy or not.

 

"That's... actually pretty cool." Phichit's got his smile back, and it looks so natural that Seung-Gil almost didn't acknowledge its homecoming. The boy snaps his fingers, his eyes twinkling.

"How about that's what you do then?"

 

Seung-Gil sinks into the turtleneck collar of his black sweater (it has flecks of white from his dog's fur). "What?"

 

"While you wait!" Phichit leans forward closer and clasps Seung-Gil's wrist with two (warm) hands. "You can come stay over here and chat with me and maybe... maybe we can dance!"

 

There's a rose tint that colors Phichit's cheeks, but it's probably from the excitement that laces his voice so well.

Seung-Gil feels dizzy.

"Aren't you supposed to be working?" He then quips dryly- if only to adhere to a sense of himself.

 

The sweet boy (who's hands are still around him arm!!!!) rolls his eyes. "Yuuri easily distracts everyone with his good looks. They won't notice I'm gone."

"I think you look good!"

 

If not for Phichit's hold, Seung-Gil would have deconstructed to his most basic elements and melted unto the floor.

 

Phichit seemingly preens from the compliment. "Why thank you, Seung-Gil!"

"So... ehm..."

"So? Is that alright with you? I can give you something to do while your friends drink and you can give me something nice to look at all night."  He punctuates the sentence with a wink, and Seung-Gil can feel his ribcage crack with the effort it takes to keep his heart inside it.

 

"That would be... interesting." He says vaguely. Maybe if he acts mysterious, he could appeal better.

"Cool cool!" Phichit hums. He takes his hands back to himself, at Seung-Gil's expense. "I'm Phichit, by the way." He gestures to the tag pinned on his chest.

"I know..." Seung-Gil mutters softly under his breath, despite himself. Phichit seemed to have noticed and he looks shy all of a sudden.

 

That only lasts for about a few seconds before the expression turns mischievous,

"...So about sitting on your face...?"


End file.
